Chapter 25 #2
Will frowned. “I fear that the news is not good. I hesitated to tell you. Queen Mary believes that the Lady Elizabeth was involved in the rebellion, and some of the councillors have been sent to arrest her for questioning.”
Kate was aghast. “Do you think it’s true?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. She is a great dissembler—and she would have had good cause to rebel.”
“I think she is too clever for that,” Kate said, trying to console herself.
“But Lord Chancellor Gardiner and the Spanish ambassador are convinced of it and putting pressure on the Queen to deal with Elizabeth as she dealt with Lady Jane. They say she is a traitor and a threat to the Crown.”
“I won’t believe it,” Kate declared, trembling at the thought of what might happen to Elizabeth.
“I pray for her sake that you are correct, but on no account should you write to her. You cannot risk being deemed guilty by association. You are known to be a devout Protestant. Conclusions might be drawn that you were involved with Wyatt, too.”
Kate was indignant, fighting back tears. “I am so worried for her, all alone and probably very frightened. She is but twenty. She is without any support and comfort. I wish I could help to succor her in some way.”
Will placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Daughter, you must not even try. That young lady can well take care of herself.”
Kate fervently hoped so. She turned away and sat down. “Have you seen my brother?” she asked. “I have been wondering how he is faring, for he was a convert to the new religion, but I dare not write and ask him.”
“I’ve seen him,” Will told her. “He is concerned for his family and his future and has resolved to obey the new laws. The Queen has appointed him her carver and apparently thinks well of him. He has six children now.”
“Does he ask about me?” Kate asked.
“He does. He hopes that you are being pragmatic in this present situation.”
“I will pray for him,” Kate vowed. “Whichever route we choose to take to Heaven, he is still my brother.”
—
When Will next wrote from court, it was to say that Elizabeth was at Whitehall.
She had not been sent to the Tower, although her apartments were heavily guarded and she was being closely examined by the Council.
Kate froze when she read that and prayed that Elizabeth would clear herself.
Yet, as she knew all too well, had known since she had spent those dreadful days in the Tower with her aunt, people believed what they wanted to believe. To them, that was truth.
“Be grateful you are far from London,” Will continued.
“Many rebels have been hanged—more than a hundred, I think. Their bodies hang from gibbets at every street corner; they are ghastly spectacles and the stench is appalling. There are severed heads and dismembered limbs on spikes above the city gates. Yet the Queen has also been merciful. Hundreds have been pardoned.”
Sickened by what she had read, Kate hoped that Mary’s merciful impulses would extend to Elizabeth.
At least the rebellion was over. But now the way was clear for Prince Philip to come to England. Kate shuddered at the prospect of what his arrival might portend.
—
April came in with a flowering of blossom, yet still Francis was detained in Geneva, and Kate was finding their separation unbearable.
He had been gone for seven months now, and it seemed like seven years.
When, oh, when would she see him and Hal again?
Many times, she resolved to pack up and cross the sea to join him.
There was no need, as yet, and it would be foolhardy to unsettle the children.
He and Hal were well. She must not worry.
He missed her and longed for her presence, but they should both be prepared to make sacrifices for the higher good.
She must stay steadfast and strong, and offer up her loneliness and suffering to God. He would comfort her.
She tried, she really tried. She could only admire Francis’s dedication to the faith and his determination to do the right thing.
Yet it was impossible to quell her yearning for his presence, for his strong arms around her and the joy of their nights together.
The only thing to do was to keep occupied.
Heaven knew, she had a thousand and one things claiming her attention, not least her children, who were all growing up sturdily and needed a firm hand.
Sometimes, their nurses despaired of them, especially the headstrong Lettice, the beauty of the family.
Yet when they were with Kate, they behaved themselves, so she tried to spend as much time as possible with them.
It tugged at her heartstrings to see the likeness of Francis in them. If only he could be here with them all.
In the middle of April, Will reported that he had been to Tower Hill to see Wyatt executed.
“There was speculation that he would say that Elizabeth was involved in his uprising. But on the scaffold, he refused to incriminate her. It seems there is now no case against her, yet she is still being interrogated at Whitehall. I fear they are determined to find something. My friends on the Council tell me she has confessed nothing, so they are debating what to do with her. Some lords favor keeping her under house arrest in the country, but no one wants the responsibility of housing so dangerous a person under his roof. The Queen is to leave London for Oxford shortly, so they think it essential that Elizabeth be placed in safe custody in a place where she can wreak no mischief. They are talking about sending her to the Tower.”
Kate was bursting with anger. How could they treat Elizabeth like this when they had no evidence against her?
Jealousy was at the root of it, she was sure, and Mary’s fear of her sister.
She was so agitated that she could settle to nothing.
By the evening, she had developed a punishing headache and took herself to bed with an infusion of lavender, sage, marjoram, and rue.
In his next letter, Will broke the news that Elizabeth was in the Tower.
She had tried to delay her departure, then refused to enter the fortress; they had almost had to drag her inside.
Now she was imprisoned in the old Queen’s Lodgings, where her mother had spent her final days.
Kate remembered them only too well. All that gilded antick decoration—it had seemed to make a mockery of the tragedy that had unfolded within.
She could not imagine what Elizabeth might be feeling.
It seemed an unnecessary refinement of cruelty to incarcerate her in those rooms. She must be haunted by the knowledge of what had happened eighteen years ago, when Queen Anne had stepped out of that lodging for the last time—and was no doubt terrified that she herself was doomed to suffer the same fate.
Think of it! Every footfall outside, every knock, every visit from the Constable of the Tower, might herald her end.
How Kate longed to comfort her. Yet Will was right: she must make no attempt to contact her. It could be construed as treason.
—
When Will visited that month, he told her that the councillors were treating Elizabeth considerately, and that many feared to show themselves as harsh toward her as the Queen wished.
“They think Mary will not live long,” he said, lowering his voice and bending close to Kate’s ear as they sat on the stone bench in the garden, taking advantage of the mild spring evening.
“She is thirty-eight, old to be contemplating marriage and motherhood, and might die in childbed. They are conscious that Elizabeth is her heir. How will she deal with those who hounded her to confess something she had not done?”
“I am glad of their consideration,” Kate said. “I cannot bear to think of her shut up in the Tower, alone and friendless.”
“Let us hope that she will not be there for much longer,” Will said.
He sighed. “There is more bad news, I fear. Parliament is sitting again. The Queen has formally renounced the title Supreme Head of the Church, which means that England is once again to be under the authority of the Pope. I am disappointed that there have been few protests. It appears that many people are happy to see the clock put back. It can only be a matter of time before the government proceeds against us Protestants. I dread to think of what will happen when Prince Philip comes.”
“I dread that, too.”
“Kate, I—I must tell you…”
She could read in his face what he was about to say. “You are leaving.”
“I am,” he confessed. “I am going to Geneva and taking Dot, our children, and our servants with me. I will be traveling under the name ‘Lord Rochford’—I know, I have no right to the title, but it was in the family. I wrote to Dr. Calvin, and he has replied that I am welcome there and that I can be of use in administering the affairs of Geneva.”
Kate was near to tears, but she kept smiling. She could not beg Will to stay for her sake. He had his family to think of. There were four children now, and another on the way, he had proudly informed her, yet not without some concern. Of course he must keep them safe.
“When do you leave?” she asked, keeping her voice even.
“Alas, daughter, in three days’ time. Believe me, I do not want to leave you here without a protector.”
“I can look after myself, and to my children’s safety,” she assured him. “Besides, Francis will probably be home soon.” She knew this to be a vain hope. “Go with my blessing, dear Will. Let us pray that we shall meet again soon, in happier times.”
—
She missed him more than she had anticipated.
She did not like being cut off from the court.
There was no one there she knew well, so she had to rely on the priest and the local carter for news of what was happening in the outside world—and it was sparse, without the inside knowledge to which she had become accustomed.